


You'll Never Know

by strawberrykait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Music, Romance, The Beatles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrykait/pseuds/strawberrykait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco have a post-coital argument over The Beatles, of all things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Never Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tygermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. _Do You Want To Know A Secret?_ copyright Paul McCartney and John Lennon. No profit is being made from this work. The events depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead, Muggle or Magical, is merely coincidental. No offense intended.  
>  **Story Notes:** Written for **Tygermine** for **Otter & Ferret Exchange 2013**. And a very, VERY special THANK YOU for **McCargi,** who managed the impossible at such short notice! :D  
>  **Beta(s):** McCargi

Hermione’s orgasm hit first with a long, silent scream that, after a moment, was ripped out of her with a tremendous groan of satisfaction. Her body was slick from their efforts, her hair matted to her forehead and clinging to her cheek, near her mouth. Her breath escaped in choppy pants, and below her, Draco was hardly any better off. She braced herself with both palms still against his chest. Beneath her fingers, she could feel his racing heart strain against his ribcage. She imagined it as a wild beast, desperately trying to break out of captivity, and she grinned.

“Now, that’s what I like to see,” Draco murmured, moving the hand that was on her hip up to caress her cheek, pushing aside the strands of hair that clung there. “My woman: sated.” He continued to look up at her, heaving out a long, satisfied sigh, which he topped off with an adorable smirk that made her belly curl deliciously and want to do everything all over again. However, the muscles in her thighs weren’t cooperating anymore, and so she collapsed next to him on the bed, lying on top of the expensive sheets. Before she’d caught her breath, Draco’s hand was sliding up and down her leg in a familiar gesture. Hermione loved his hands during and after sex. 

Self-consciously, she squirmed about on the bed, evading his gentle touches, until she’d managed to get between the sheets, securely tucking the top one under both arms. Meanwhile, he appeared ready to sleep.

She would have preferred to have thrown up her arms above her head, and to leave off the covers, allowing her over-heated and over-stimulated body to cool off and calm down, but she wasn’t _quite_ to that stage with Draco and their relationship. The fact that they both agreed that what they were doing qualified as an actual relationship still left her baffled and giddy some days. As she lay there, feeling all the wonderful aches throughout her body, Draco rolled to his side, facing her. The smile she gave was unguarded and he returned the sentiment with one of his own, topped off with a final kiss before settling down. Hermione, however, wasn’t the least bit ready to go to sleep yet.

“Tell me something secret. Something true,” she whispered. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

With his eyes shut, his fingers reached up to trace her hot, swollen lips, causing her breath to stop for a second. “I can’t stand the colour green,” he mumbled. 

She blinked, and burst out laughing. “No, come on! I’m serious! Don’t spoil this,” she jostled him back awake as she pleaded with him. She rearranged herself up on one elbow to see him better. “Tell me something that no one else knows.”

Draco released a heavy sigh, opening first one, then both eyes to look up at her. “Listen,” he whispered, lightly touching her lips again with his finger. “Do you want to know a secret?” Hermione nodded her head. Draco smirked, his eyes closing halfway. “Do you promise not to tell?”

Hermione blinked. “Did… did you just quote a Beatles song?”

Draco’s brow furrowed before asking, “What?”

She swallowed roughly, her mouth too dry. “I mean … You did, didn’t you? You really just quoted lyrics to me. It’s just… well, this must be a completely redundant question -- obviously, you know the Beatles, or else the likelihood of you unintentionally quoting their lyrics is so – Oh, you do know them, don’t play daft! But,” she brushed her hair back and tilted her head to look up at him directly, “did you just intentionally quote the Beatles to me?”

Draco cut his eyes across the room, and then back again. He was definitely awake now. “And if I did?”

“Oh, you did! You know you did!” She laughed, slapping at his slack arm. Quickly, he reached for her offending hand and raised it to his mouth, leaving small kisses on the finger tips, and then the knuckles. “Actually, I’m somewhat surprised that you know the band. They weren’t exactly the sort one would expect to hear played on the wireless, not to mention just how _old_ they are. No, don’t go back to sleep yet!”

He growled. “Love, it is the male imperative to fall deeply asleep after strenuous shagging.” He frowned at her. 

She blew out a skeptical breath, shaking her head. “Not just yet. No, you have to tell me how you know of the Beatles. You’ve always been such a prat when it comes to Muggle life -”

“What, you don’t know?” Draco sat up properly, resting his back against the headboard. He reached across the bedside table for a cigarette. Without a word, he lit it and inhaled deeply, all while she waited, expectantly. Finally, her patience was overtaken by curiosity.

“Know what? Know what, Draco?” 

The smoke curled out from his nostrils unattractively, and she swiped uselessly at the air between them. As she sat up, she struggled to maintain her grip on the sheet. It wouldn’t budge from beneath his arse, so she remained lower in the bed than he. 

“Paul McCartney’s a wizard,” he said at last in a deadpan voice.

The noise outside his flat quietly filled the room as she stared back at him, unable to tell if he was taking the mickey out on her or not. Eventually, she spoke. “You’re lying! No, there’s no way. You’re _lying_! Paul McCar – no, not possible. How could you even think up something so ridiculous?”

“I’m just astounded that you, of all witches, don’t know this already. You really need to loosen up a bit, love; get your head out of those musty old books, because the mold’s affecting not only your social life, but also your sense of pop culture.”

“Pop culture?” she repeated, her eyes as wide as saucers. She looked at him askance and wondered whom she’d really slept with, because surely this couldn’t be Draco Malfoy. He continued to smoke and stare back at her. Any second now, she expected him to break, to crack under her gawking, and come clean. There was no way Sir Paul McCartney, one of the greatest musicians and lyricist of all time, was an actual wizard. 

But, then again…

“You know,” she spoke slowly, her brow creasing as she considered all things. “You know, you could be telling the truth.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “It’s astonishing, is it? That I could possibly be right; could know something even you don’t? Thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch, or something.”

“Don’t be mean,” she sniffed as she once again attempted to sit up to his level, struggling harder with the sheet. This time, however, he shifted enough to give the leverage she needed. While adjusting her position and straightening the thin cover, she continued theorizing aloud. 

“Consider how significant their music was, and how quickly they rose to stardom. To some extent, it was a remarkable time in Muggle history, the Civil Rights Movement, the Viet Nam war, and the sexual revolution, too. All of that, and more, could simply be the necessary combination of influences and factors to create such phenomenal music. 

“But, then again … what if magic _had_ played a part? The music of The Beatles, even to this day, has had such an undeniable affect on not only other musicians who followed, but generations of men and women – and wizards, too, apparently.” Her eyes cut toward him. “To what extent was magic responsible?”

The idea germinated within her so quickly and so completely, that she was ignorant of Draco’s gentle roving fingertips, fitting between her soft skin and the sheet, separating the two. When he yanked it down, she finally stopped theorizing about the ethics of McCartney using magic on the masses of young adults and if such spell work would be considered on the level of the Imperius Curse. In an instant, he covered her bare breasts with his mouth and the hand still holding the smoldering cigarette. Panicking, Hermione managed to Vanish the damn thing before it singed her. Despite his best efforts, her mind was still elsewhere.

“How come I’ve never heard such a thing?”

“Well,” he pulled back from her taut, pink flesh with exasperation. It was his own damn fault for bringing up the subject, instead of faking sleep. At this point, she was not to be deterred. “It would have been all hush-hush, wouldn’t it? Can’t let anyone – not even the Mighty McCartney – go blasting away at the ISWS, could they. Of course not.” 

Her mind had already considered the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in this matter. “But even so, that should have only prevented Muggles from knowing the truth. It ought to have been common knowledge for us, especially in our Muggle Studies classes. I wonder why the professor never mentioned it. And I’ve never come across any hint of this during my personal researches.” 

As Draco resumed his ministrations on her other breast, she had another thought. She raked her fingers through his fine, blond hair, feeling a twinge of jealousy at the notion that his hair was easier to maintain than her own. “What about John Lennon? Is – was –he also a wizard?” 

“Of course not,” he mumbled. Her nipple popped out of his mouth audibly and she blushed. “Damn it all – McCartney’s not a wizard, Hermione. I was only taking the piss.” He wasn’t fast enough to avoid her fingers curling within his hair to pull and yank him aside. Hermione managed to haul him halfway across his bed, all the while he cried out apologies mixed with curse words.

“You are such an arsehole, Draco Malfoy! And I believed you – stupid, stupid, stupid me! Oh, when will I ever learn?” Eventually, she let him go in order to scrambled off the bed. Draco knew what was coming and immediately set out to sooth her with heart-felt apologies and downright bribes in order for her to stay the rest of the night. 

Many moments and long, slow kisses later, she returned to his bed, curled up beneath his arm, her bushy head resting against his chest. One day, Draco would learn when and where to play such pranks against his girlfriend, and hopefully, she’d give him enough time to do so. Until then, he wanted nothing more than to love her, every inch of her, and never let either leave this bed unsatisfied or unhappy.

“Yoko _is_ a witch, though.”

“Now, _that_ I can believe.” Her fingers twirled through the small patches of white-blond hair across his chest as she slowly succumbed to sleep.

When her breathing evened out and he knew almost for certain that she was really asleep, Draco whispered, a slight lilt to his sleepy voice, “You’ll never know how much I really love you.”


End file.
